


Bound by Duty

by drelfina



Series: Konoha is the Clownfish AU of the shinobi world [9]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Actually some surprise pairings for you to find, Founders Era, I am very East Asian, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, except for when i am not, god there is so much pining it's very very obvious if you know how to look, it's actually gentle but hey your mileage might vary, my sense of humour, pining up and down the wazoo, watch for the tonal change
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:40:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23073358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drelfina/pseuds/drelfina
Summary: Madara takes a walk through the new Village.Tomorrow, Uzumaki Mito will be coming, and everything will be different.
Relationships: Senju Hashirama/Uchiha Madara
Series: Konoha is the Clownfish AU of the shinobi world [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1330769
Comments: 87
Kudos: 167





	Bound by Duty

**Author's Note:**

  * For [evocates](https://archiveofourown.org/users/evocates/gifts).



> This is for you, Evocates. No idea if it's as good as you're expecting but maybe I raised the expectations ahahaha /o\

Evening in Konoha was a little louder than he was used to, back in the old Clan Holdings. There were systems now, that ran on late into the night, which had been inefficient and unnecessary to do more than once a week back when it had just been the Uchiha.

It was a little brighter too, hearth fires burning higher, lamps glowing longer at doorways, when usually they would be extinguished maybe two hours after dark. 

There had never been paths he needed lit; after all, he'd grown up with these same paths worn into dirt by his grandfather's and _his_ grandfather's childhoods. 

But now the paths, as he walked along Konoha's streets, were paved with stone, quarried and brought here by their own hands, the rooftops were reinforced glazed tiles made by industries that Hashirama's little brother had determined was necessary to withstand the foot traffic of what felt like hundreds more ninja than any one clan could produce alone. 

These days, any one of them could have a full night's sleep, because there were people who worked the night shift permanently, if they so desired, ready and waiting to take in a client's mission. 

Dedicated _offices_ for such things! Teams that could have several specialists so that they could actually take on longer, bigger, better paying missions of greater complexity than they, when they were splintered, fractured Clans, could ever dream of! 

Izuna had peeled away from this walk with Madara, citing a need to "sleep" which Madara interpreted as his intent to visit and court his non-Uchiha lover. 

Yes, Madara didn't have to walk the streets. There were dedicated mixed-Clan patrols to do this; when in the beginning it had been a necessity to keep the delicate political tensions in place (no all-Senju, no all-Uchiha, no all-one-clan), it now felt like it had of course been the only logical, reasonable choice. 

The mixed-Clan patrols were now _patrolers_ , defined by their job rather than their Clan of origin, just like the new fire control officers were just as rapidly building camaraderie with each other the way that Madara had never even thought, in his twelve-year-old imaginings with Hashirama by that river, would have ever been possible. 

He didn't have to walk the streets, but he wanted to. _Needed_ to, to marvel at this new village. 

Izuna had doubted it from the very beginning, when they'd sat down to the negotiating tables. Had doubted the possibilities of this, because there was only one Senju he had respected enough to think might _even_ be trustworthy not to stab Madara in the eyes while sitting in the same table, and it was because said Senju had caught Izuna's blade with his bare hand, slicing his palm open to the bone just to prove that he was fast enough to kill Izuna but had stayed his sword. 

At least when it was the four of them, alone, Izuna wouldn't quibble if it was Senju Tobirama's suggestions. 

(But the headache Izuna gave Madara for even appearing to consider Hashirama's words! Like this whole village hadn't been his and Hashirama's idea, like it hadn't been Hashirama's ideal for peace that had led to Tobirama taking that stupid heart-stopping risk… Madara had nearly had a heart attack when Izuna had cried out that time, because he thought Izuna was dead.) 

Peace, Madara thought, was late night lanterns on unfamiliar streets to once-rival clans' homes. 

"Out late, Madara?" 

Madara didn't turn. Just kept walking, and Hashirama fell into step next to him. 

"I patrol every night," Madara said. "You're the one stalking me with flowers." 

"Tobira would say it's inefficient and a waste of your time," Hashirama said. 

"You say that like I don't know how much more colourful your brother's vocabulary can get," Madara said, and he glanced briefly to Hashirama. 

Noted how the man was looking straight ahead, his hair an almost-amber sheet in the warm light of the passing lanterns, his hands tucked into his sleeves. 

"She's coming tomorrow, isn't she," Madara said. 

Hashirama's expression didn't change at all. "Yes," he said, after three paces. "I hope Konoha impresses her." 

"I doubt," Madara said, watching the way Hashirama didn't look back at him, the way his smile remained that faint, distant thing, "she would be very impressed with much, that daughter of Uzushio." 

"Konoha's the first of its kind," Hashirama said. "It was _your_ dream, made reality." 

" _Our_ dream," Madara said firmly. 

"She would have to be impressed no matter what," Hashirama said. 

Madara watched Hashirama's shoulders, straight and even, the way his shadow grew long and shortened as they walked over smooth cobblestones, brushing against Madara's own shoulder. 

If anyone else were to watch their shadows, it would look like they were so close, not enough a hair's width between them. 

Shadows _lied_. 

"She won't be impressed with the bags under your eyes," Madara said, forcing his eyes back to straight ahead. 

"Tobira knows the powers of make-up," Hashirama said dismissively. 

"True," Madara said. "It wouldn't do for your future wife to have a poor first impression of the Shodaime Hokage." 

"It's a silly name," Hashirama said. 

"You didn't have to accept my suggestion. It was just the first of a million, I had more." 

"I…" Hashirama paused, smiled a little crookedly. "I didn't like them as much." 

"Tobirama nearly strangled you," Madara said, "He said even calling yourself a God of the Forest would have been better." 

"You'd think," Hashirama said, sniffing theatrically, "Tobira would like Hokage better. It's _subtle_." 

"It's literally the first word that fell off my tongue," Madara said. "Your brother nearly killed me." 

"Izuna wouldn't have let him," Hashirama said blithely. "And besides, you're good at that." 

"At -?" 

"Names. Naming things. Calling things what they are. It sounds better than what I was thinking anyway." 

Madara snorted, and ignored the way his chakra coiled, tight and jittery for a moment. "You've got terrible judgment," he said. "You would have called the Village … the _Village_ if Tobirama hadn't hit you with a tree branch." 

"I like the name Konoha much better than 'Village'," Hashirama agreed, as if Madara hadn't just insulted him. 

"That's because you're part-tree," Madara muttered. 

Konoha was aptly named - after all, when they'd stood on the cliff and looked down, all Madara could see was the great canopy of a huge forest, and thought about how suitable it was, these great trees protecting their fledgling peace. The name had just… fallen naturally. 

Cradled in the tree branches - even as they walked along, silence falling companionably, there were trees and plants stretching out, softening shadows to velvet as they passed. He could hear the soft flit of sandals against bark, the tiny tingling burst of someone's chakra passing overhead. 

Hashirama absently untucked a hand from his sleeve, fingers curling slightly, and a tree's branches curled up, further, widening to steady a patroler's almost misstep. 

The Village was named perfectly, for Hashirama was everywhere in it. 

It was _his_ Village, no matter what they could have named it. 

And tomorrow, Madara knew, Hashirama was meeting his wife, and it would be _their_ Village. 

"The perfect home," Madara murmured. 

Hashirama turned a little, to look at him. "Konoha?" A breath. A beat. "Yes," Hashirama said, quiet as a shadow, "Yes it is."

* * *

"I see what you mean," Izuna said, rubbing his hands on his temples. 

"Yes. That's why it has to be you." 

"Argh," Izuna said. "Tomorrow. I'll get it ready." He frowned, looking down at the empty street. "You think it'd be enough?"

"Thank you," Tobirama said, standing up, his expression set and grim. "It is going to have to be enough. We only have one chance." 

"Oh yeah," Izuna said, equally grim, pulling his legs under him into a ready crouch. "Because if we fail, we're dead."

* * *

Uzushio's delegation arrived with the morning, trees drawing up and sweeping the path open, as the sun started to burn away the night's dew.

Madara was on the look-out point on the gate; Tobirama would have been a better option, he of his ridiculous sensor range, but the man had to go tip Hashirama out of bed, since he'd basically stayed up most of the night with Madara instead. 

Madara himself had not slept. It hadn't been necessary - _he_ wasn't the one who was meeting a future wife, after all. 

They were almost at the gates when Izuna finally showed up. 

"That them?" he asked, unnecessarily, since it wasn't like the entire Village wasn't up and staring at the strangers, the first official delegation since the formation of their Village. 

"Yes," Madara said, even if he didn't have to answer. 

The one in the veil, he thought, had to be her. 

Uzumaki Mito.

"Yes that's them," Madara said, tightly. 

"Huh," Izuna said, thoughtfully. 

Madara ignored him to leap down and greet them. Izuna could tell him his thoughts _later_. 

This visit - nothing was allowed to go _wrong_.

* * *

Uzumaki Mito was smiling at something Tobirama had said. 

Or at least Madara thought she was smiling. It was a little difficult to tell; she'd swept her veil up when meeting Hashirama, but the gauzy silk still obscured the sides of her face, and for all Madara knew, it was on purpose. 

Hashirama laughed, and at least Madara was sure it was mostly genuine. It didn't matter if it looked a little strained - Hashirama's natural gregariousness and charm would win out over the formality and seriousness of the event of meeting the wife his father had signed an agreement for. 

Even if his brother looked like he was carved from ice jade, Mito didn't seem to notice. Or mind. Tobirama said something else, Madara wasn't paying attention to the words, and Mito laughed, a delicate tinkling thing much like the chimes of her kanzashi. 

Only Hashirama had ever seemed to find his brother humorous, and that, at least, seemed to endear her to Hashirama a little more. 

"Niisan," Izuna said, voice low. "You should go get some air." 

Madara frowned. 

"It's stuffy," Izuna said, still low. "You also look like you're getting a headache." 

Madara was prone to migraines yes, but it wasn't his head that was hurting right now, watching Hashirama lean in a little closer to his prospective wife. 

It was, however, a very convenient excuse. 

"I can -" he said. 

"I can take your place just as well," Izuna murmured, and Madara nodded, quietly sliding to his feet. 

Tobirama looked up, and nodded ever so slightly when Madara backed out of the room silently. 

Hashirama… 

Didn't look at him.

* * *

The receiving hall had been stifling, but the hallways out here weren't much better. 

Madara wasn't sure where to go, so he headed to the garden. 

The air, he thought, would help with his so-called headache, and it was a reasonable excuse for him to be out here, pacing along the path. 

The flowers and plants here, he noted, were all haphazardly chosen - it was very likely just Hashirama growing whatever crossed his mind, no matter what his entire clan thought about the proper order of plants should be in a garden. Not that the Uchiha would have any real input - vegetation tended to leave dry dead growth, and were fire hazards in the end. 

So a flower garden like this was still a novelty. 

Soon, he supposed, there would be another voice here, that would change the organization of the garden. Someone new, someone who was _necessary_ for the political acceptance of Konoha. 

"Madara," Hashirama said, and Madara blinked, looking up. 

Madara was right in the centre of the garden, he realised, while Hashirama stood right on the edge of the engawa, his long Hokage robes still hanging neatly enough that Madara knew if he hadn't been wearing them, if this wasn't a formal occasion, he'd have been out in amongst the plants already. 

Madara noted the circular pattern of the paving stones - he'd been pacing them long enough he'd forgotten he had been walking his thoughts amongst the garden. 

"The meeting's over already?" Madara said. 

"Tobirama said you had a headache," Hashirama said, without answering. "Feeling better now?" 

No, not really, Madara didn't say, but he obeyed the unspoken command anyway, starting back towards the engawa's steps. 

"Just needed some air," Madara said. 

Hashirama steadied his arm when Madara bent to toe off his sandals, and Madara couldn't help but be aware of how much those robes smelled like bleached silk and nothing like Hashirama's normal sandalwood scent. 

"Come then," Hashirama said, voice quiet. "We should get back to the meeting. Tobira won't like having to talk to Mito-san all by himself." 

"You abandoned him?" Madara said, and aborted a motion to reach for Hashirama's hand still on his arm. 

Instead he shrugged off Hashirama's hand, to snap his sleeves back out, dusting off any plant debris. 

Hashirama's laugh was a little rueful even as he dropped his hands to his sides. "Yes, well, he'd make me pay for it soon, I know." 

"You can't just run off anymore," Madara scolded Hashirama, scowling at the smile on Hashirama's face. "You _can't_. You're going to be married -" 

"I know, I know," Hashirama said. 

"Anija," Tobirama said, looking severe at them both. "Come along now." 

"Ah," Madara said. Seemed like it was the tour-part of the visit, and also they were both in trouble. 

"Yeah, I'm in for it now," Hashirama said. 

They followed Tobirama to one of the other rooms, and Madara slowed a little to let Hashirama step forward towards Mito, who was examining a large… metal box? 

A cabinet, Madara realised, looking at it - it was huge, even taller than Hashirama, and twice as wide. 

"Fascinating," Mito said, turning to look at Hashirama and Madara. 

"What is it," Hashirama said, frowning a little at it, Madara following closely. 

"A prototype," Mito said, "Tobirama-san was just showing it to me, and it's fascinating how light it is for its capacity." 

"Whatever would it be for, though, Tobira?" Hashirama said, looking puzzled, "it's not like I can't gro-" 

Which was when someone shoved Madara hard in the back. 

He stumbled, stepping on Hashirama's benighted robes, and both of them flailed. 

Mito stepped out of the way as they crashed into the cabinet. 

"The hell -" Madara started to say and the cabinet doors slammed shut. 

A knob turned, and a sharp metallic clunk sounded with finality. 

"The fuck," Madara said in the almost complete darkness. 

"Tobira?" Hashirama said, and it echoed very near Madara's face. "Get this - open - I can't -" 

It was all metal, Madara realised, and as he braced against the metal walls, trying to shove them open, it was _Uchiha_ make. 

The light started to disappear to a hot sizzle that Madara recognised as _welding_. 

With very controlled Uchiha flame.

"Izuna," Madara hissed, "You're a dead man, Izuna!" 

"Sorry not sorry," Izuna said. 

Madara tried to cast out his senses, but the walls glowed briefly with … 

_Uzumaki seals_. 

What the actual flying fuck. 

"Tobirama," Hashirama said, sounding stupidly deep, and menacing, right next to Madara's ear. "Explanations! Right now!" 

"I'm very sorry, Hokage-sama," Mito's voice piped up, not sounding sorry at all. "I cannot marry you." 

"What," Hashirama and Madara said. 

"It seems," she said, "you have another in your heart." 

They both stared at each other in the darkness, even as Madara had to twist around to do so. 

The seals, Madara realised, had something to do with strength. Strength to _reinforce_ the walls of the thrice-damned cabinet. 

"You have ten minutes of air, Anija," Tobirama's voice didn't even have the decency to sound smug. "Please use it wisely." 

"Yeah," Izuna said and _that_ little fucker sounded smug as hell. "Fuck or die, Niisan!" 

"What," Madara snarled, trying to turn around to kick at the door, and almost kneed Hashirama in the jaw. "The actual fucking fuck? Izuna, when I get out of here, I'm going to skin you!" 

Hashirama caught Madara's waist, shifted so that no one's knees were in anyone's kidneys. 

"Tobirama, you open this right now," Hashirama boomed, and the whole cabinet seemed to vibrate with his voice, all the way up Madara's spine.

Which was when Madara realised he had basically twisted himself into Hashirama's lap.

* * *

Hashirama's hands were very big and warm. 

"You're..." Madara said. "Someone else?" 

Someone else in his heart? 

"Mito-san," Hashirama said, after a beat, "seems to see very clearly." 

"What does it mean for the treaty?" Madara asked. 

"I don't know," Hashirama said, and his swallow was hugely audible in the cabinet. 

Metal was too smooth not to echo. 

"But she won't marry me." 

"Then who," Madara asked, his throat tight and small, "would you marry?" 

"If it was possible," Hashirama said, and the tiny slit of light that Izuna hadn't welded shut allowed him to see Hashirama's eyes, wide and dark and intent. "I believe you know." 

"Ah," Madara said, and then leaned in. 

Hashirama leaned up the rest of the way.

* * *

It had taken only five minutes for the screaming to stop. 

"That's something of a record," Tobirama noted; he should have done this earlier. "Madara usually can keep going for two hours." 

"He's probably finally using his lung power for something else," Izuna said. 

They both made a face at each other, because _gross_. 

"Now that that's over," Mito said, snapping her fan shut, "would you consider my proposal, Tobirama-san?"

"You're not really going to leave me alone here, are you, Tobirama?" Izuna said. 

"It's just a research trip," Tobirama told Izuna. "It won't be for long even if I say yes." 

"You're not leaving me with _them_ ," Izuna said in dismay. 

"I entrust Anija to Madara," Tobirama said, gesturing towards the cabinet. 

"You mean you're making me deal with them ALONE," Izuna whined. "Tobirama, you're cruel!" 

"My cousin Touka would be there to help soothe any ruffled feathers," Tobirama said. 

"Touka? You mean the one who broke a piece of shale with her bare hands because it was too big for pavement? That Touka?" 

"That Touka," Tobirama nodded. 

"Oh," Izuna said, mollified. His ears were a tiny bit pink. "Okay. Fine." 

Mito smiled. "So it's agreed?" 

"Yes," Tobirama said, "I agree to your proposal, Mito-sama." 

"Please," Mito said, "if we're to be colleagues, call me Mito-san."

* * *

** EPILOGUE **

"Did your brother explain what was in that letter before he ran screaming out the window?" Hashirama asked. 

Madara was staring still at the window. "No," he said, somewhat mystified. "It was just some jutsu that Tobirama had sent me to pass to Izuna." He shook himself, and looked to Hashirama. "What was the letter from your brother then? Is he going to return any time soon?" 

"I… am not sure," Hashirama said. 

"It's been a year and a half," Madara pointed out. " _And_ a coup… somehow happened. And he _still_ refused to return?" 

"Yeeees," Hashirama said, slowly. 

"And I suspect your brother was actually involved in it?" 

"His letters never said he was!" 

"From his letters," Madara said, "It would appear Tobirama himself didn't _exist_ and the words just wrote themselves." 

"It's just how he writes," Hashirama said a little defensively, though his shoulders relaxed when Madara came over and plucked the letter from Hashirama's hands.

Madara ignored his smile to lean against the desk to read, and didn't brush away the little wood tendril that tucked against his hip.

"... 'The Prince of Uzushio Uzumaki Mito'," Madara read out, "'now has an heir. Childbirth is terrible.'" 

Madara looked at Hashirama, knowing his expression was sardonic as fuck. "So this means…?" 

"Mito has a son?" Hashirama said. 

"The way this is phrased," Madara said, "either the baby fell out of the sky, was fished out of the sea, or," he shook the letter at Hashirama, "Your brother could well have birthed it himself." 

He stopped to glare at Hashirama. "Stop smiling at me." 

"I can't help it," Hashirama said. "You look so good when you're outraged." 

"Save the flirting for after work," Madara said, ignoring how his ears were pink now, and that Hashirama's smile was wide and delighted. 

He was definitely ignoring how his own face was trying to smile in answer. 

"Tobira says we should visit Uzushio anyway," Hashirama said. "Both of us." 

"Fine, I suppose," Madara said. "I suppose Izuna can run things while we're gone." 

"Izuna and Touka, yes," Hashirama said.

* * *

Tobirama had a very mild disgruntled look on his face, gold seashells in his hair and an infant tucked against his chest when they visited. 

"I was right," Madara said. "I cannot believe I'm _right_." 

"Oh," Hashirama said. "So you're not -" 

"The Prince will not do without her Princess-consort, no," Mito said, and touched Tobirama's shoulder like a brand of possession. 

"Congratulations, Mito-sama?" Hashirama said. 

"We thank you for your well-wishes, Hokage-sama," Mito said. And smiled.

* * *

"Niisan," Izuna yelled even before Madara was close enough to make out the features of the guards on the main gate. "Niisan! I'm pregnant!" 

"So that was what the jutsu Tobirama sent him does," Hashirama said, and then had to catch Madara before he concussed himself on the ground. 

END

**Author's Note:**

> So this is technically inspired ...in characterisation, tone and feel and atmosphere by aSoS again, but there is no other connection per se, and draws the kind of worldbuilding a lot more from Ghost Bride than anywhere else. 
> 
> I, thinking of the way I really love the _idea_ of reincarnation, with its attendant implications of destiny and duty that SHOULD have been inherent in HashiMada - but from the East Asian perspective, tried to write this fic with those principles in mind. 
> 
> It's not quite what I wanted to do, and it's also not quite as funny as it might be, because … well, Hashirama and Madara are far more inclined to tragedy because they're both stoic in the way that's very, VERY East Asian, and pine in a way that is barely subtle to an East Asian audience. All the duty and DESTINY... with no reincarnation. Le Sigh. 
> 
> There are political ramifications for this, even as Tobirama fucking snapped and locked Hashirama and Madara into a cabinet. 
> 
> Madara and Hashirama marrying (ish) in the East Asian style means an end for their lines - unless their brothers produce offspring. 
> 
> Tobirama marrying Mito actually does help with the treaty, though Uzushio is probably a little surprised to get Mito and Tobirama than to send Mito off. 
> 
> However, Tobirama married himself OFF To Mito, rather than Mito marrying to him - he is now Uzumaki. After the Coup, Mito is the Prince of Uzushio, and Tobirama is her princess-consort, which means all his children are now Uzumaki. 
> 
> Izuna, on the other hand, has now gone and gotten himself pregnant via Touka, so technically his children are now Senju. Unless they develop the sharingan. thenthey're Uchiha (guess how many senju he actually births I GUESS LOL) 
> 
> _Someone_ is going to have to get pregnant now, Hashirama, Madara, so you'd better start playing scissors paper stone for it. 
> 
> :P 
> 
> And this, again, counts as a Clownfish AU. 
> 
> You're welcome.


End file.
